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“Because the Incan emperor was the human embodiment of the sun god on earth, of Inti himself. So, if we’re trying to find Atahualpa, we need to take the path of the sun,” he said.
“Well,” Torres replied, his easy, jovial tone back, “that makes sense enough for me. Now all we need to do is prove your theory.”
He motioned toward the chasm.
“Rodriguez,” Torres ordered his man. “Test it.”
The young Huáscaro, a trembling Peruvian man who didn’t deserve to die for the Rios family legacy, approached the ledge. Santiago took a shuddering breath, gathering his courage.
“Stop!” His pitch was blessedly steadier than his spirit. “It’s my theory. I’ll test it.”
Santiago heard a sharp intake of breath from Ali, but she didn’t interrupt him. And if she approved, then he knew what he’d done was right.
You’ve got this, Santiago. He heard his own voice in his head.
He focused on the platforms that spun close enough to reach from his ledge. One came his way with an etching of the sun, just as he thought. It had to represent Inti’s companion, Venus.
Santiago bent his knees and shook out his hands, rocking on the balls of his feet, preparing himself to jump—either to land on a solid platform or plummet to his death. Whatever the outcome, he knew he needed to act quickly.
As the spinning sun platform approached, he readied himself, bunching his muscles and preparing to spring forward off his step. At the last second, however, an overwhelming sense of doubt seized his chest.
No, he thought. This is too easy.
The result of his hesitation was a sort of half leap, pitching his upper body forward while his lower body remained stubbornly on solid ground. He twisted desperately, throwing as much body weight as he could to the side. Instead of doing a swan dive straight into the empty air in front of him, Santiago slammed down on the lip of the chasm, his rolling propulsion shooting half his body over its edge.
He heard Ali scream.
Santiago had a moment of pure panic, half of him experiencing the weightless sensation of a fall, before his left arm and leg scrabbled across the hard stone floor, gripping desperately for salvation.
He managed to stop his momentum, hauling himself back onto solid ground. He lay there, sprawled on his back and panting furiously.
“What exactly was that?” Torres yelled, his face contorted with ire. “Perhaps I will send Alliyma in your place!”
“No,” Santiago rasped, trying to get his heartbeat back under control. “I’m sorry—just let me explain,” he managed to gasp through sharp inhalations of breath. He pushed himself up off the floor. “I was wrong,” he said. “It’s not Venus.”
“B-But you said,” Mario stuttered. “The emperor and Inti and his companion…”
“Yes,” Santiago agreed. “All of that is true. But anyone of Atahualpa’s time would have known those things. It was common knowledge back then. My theory only seemed interesting because so many Incan beliefs and customs have been lost to time. But why would the followers of Atahualpa go through all this trouble, make our path so difficult, rig a literal deadly booby trap, only to make its answer obvious? I must be missing something.”
“You’re trying my patience,” Torres growled. “Pick one. Pick a path and go. I will not be delayed any further.”
Santiago nodded, turning back to the mechanical planetary system. He didn’t care a bit about Torres’s timeline, but his ancestors’ curse…
It may have been psychosomatic—that’s certainly what he was choosing to believe—but Santiago had this sneaking, buzzing, itching suspicion that Inti was approaching his zenith in the sky.
He could practically feel the magic of this place growing restless beneath his skin. Eager. Hungry.
He needed to act fast.
If it wasn’t Venus, then what was it?
Mercury was the protector god, leading travelers and messengers. Every moment of his quest had led Santiago from one message and location to the next. But was that enough of a connection? Would it have applied to the Guardianes before him who had had their routes guided by others?
And what of Jupiter? That planetary deity was a literal guardian god. “Guardian” was right there in the name. Maybe it was his path that the Guardianes de la Tumba followed.
It sounded right. And it made sense. But Santiago wasn’t convinced. Then he saw another one of the moving platforms heading in his direction. It had the symbol for fire.
“Haucha,” Santiago whispered. Saturn.
